


Words and Reactions

by TimelessDreamer2



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: I Actually Wrote Something, Look It's Not A Video, M/M, Pre-Slash, Pretty Sure I Misused Some Commas, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-31 16:04:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimelessDreamer2/pseuds/TimelessDreamer2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually, Reese is the one that lets personal things slip to people while Finch listens in. This time, it's Finch's turn, and Reese isn't about to simply let it go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Words

**Author's Note:**

> Well.. I wrote something. And... I'm really nervous. Especially, since I've never written a fanfic before... But.. I gave it my best shot, so if it's terrible, just say so and I'll stick to videos only.
> 
> Oh... um... not beta'd.... because I don't have any idea how to go about finding one. Sorry, I'm still working out how to make more friends in this fandom.

It was an understood fact in this partnership that Harold never turned off his earpiece. Whether he was maintaining one of his covers, doing research on one of their many numbers, or simply taking Bear for a walk, his com line was always open, just in case. It had startled John at first, in the beginning, despite all of Harold claims of being a private person, that it didn't matter what the time was, he always answered. It was usually John that turned off his com, severed the connection on his side. The only exception to this was when Root stole Harold. Shortly after that, John, started leaving his line open as well, not wanting to admit openly that the simple sound of his partner, safe, soothed him in a way he wasn't exactly willing to look too far into, just yet. 

 

****

 

The first time it happened was only a couple of days after Riley Cavanaugh. The newest case revolved around a cane. Nothing special to look at really, dark oak wood, with a swirled knob of blown glass at the top. Simple yet sturdy, and hardly worth killing a man over. At least in John's humble opinion. It didn't really matter to John that the cane was over a hundred years old, or that the knob was removable, hiding a small hollow patch that supposedly held a treasure map, but he had seen people kill for far less. Still, it was hardly a challenge to follow an old man, through the city streets, so John entertained himself by listening to Carter try once again to interrogate Harold, over the open comm. It always happened the same way, Harold would meet simply to deliver helpful information, and Carter would try at least two different times to get the secretive man to tell her something. Then Harold would shut her down sharply. John secretly thought that both of them enjoyed the game, as much as he did listening in. 

 

****

 

“So... Tell me Finch... just how did you get into this line of work?” Carter toyed with her coffee mug, watching the man intently, despite the casual tone in her voice. “John, now that one I can see easy, but you.. Doesn't really seem like you.”

Finch, for his part, barely blinked. “I hardly think that is relevant to the situation.” 

Agreeably, Carter nodded. “Oh sure... But.. when I think about all the tips that I get from you.. I start to wonder...” Her voice dropped a bit on the last word, turning slightly sly. “I have to defend the authenticity of this to the boss, you know. Gotta be able to vouch for the person giving it to me.” 

Mouth tightening slightly, he straightened a bit, looking slightly offended. “I assure you Detective, there is nothing wrong with the information. I am simply a concerned citizen, doing my part in supporting the Justice System.”

A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah... that's what I thought you were gonna say. But...” One hand raised to stop Finch from standing. “At least tell me this. Why John?” Carter tilted her head slightly, looking honestly confused. “I can't quite figure out why you didn't just pass all your info to begin with. So, why John?”

For a long minute, Finch simply stared, eyes locked with Carter's darker ones. “Detective, that is a very simple question.” Carefully, working his way out of the booth, and resting one hand on the table to steady himself, he answered her question softly. “The reason is that without Mr. Reese, I am completely incapable of doing anyone any good. Good day, Detective.” Completely ignoring the stunned look on the woman's face, Finch limped out of the diner. 

****

Those quietly spoken words, caused John to pause. He had known that his partner was still adjusting after his 'encounter' with Root, but he had no idea that Harold, who was so dedicated to their cause, would think like that. It was both flattering and disconcerting at the same time. While it was nice to know that his tight-lipped employer thought so highly of him, John simply didn't like knowing that the other man's confidence had been so shaken. That wasn't the man John knew, the one that had saved him so many times... Given him so much. Shaking his head slightly, he trailed after their current number, planning on addressing the situation as soon as possible. 

Despite the quick and painless, for John anyway, ending, the following steady stream of numbers kept the ex-op busy enough to push the conversation to the back of his mind. 

 

********

 

The second time it happened, there was absolutely nothing John could do about it. In fact, he didn't even know about it until much later, after the rooftop. The only reason he did eventually find out was because of Fusco. It galled John just a bit, knowing that Harold had let something so important slip to both of the detectives now. It was like a slow itch under his skin, familiar, a sting of jealousy. To know his partner had dropped his guard, even for an instant, with someone that wasn't him. 

****

It wasn't until Caleb left the subway completely, apparently headed home to his mother, that Fusco actually approached Finch. “Hey... that was kind of touch and go there... huh?”

For a minute, Finch didn't move, before letting out a silent sigh, and tilting backward so that he could see the detective properly. “Indeed... I suspect we were very fortunate.” 

“I dunno, I think you did real good.” The words were said with an absent shrug. “Better than Mr. Sunshine coulda done.” For a couple of minutes, Fusco looked almost uncomfortable, before dropping down on the bench as well. 

“Perhaps, Detective, you believe that only because you do not know Mr. Reese very well.” The statement was dry and slightly condescending. 

Fusco made a face. “I know him plenty fine, thanks.” Silence reigned for several minutes before he cleared his throat. He had never really been a tactful person, so he simply came out and said what was on his mind. “I've been wondering, what are you gonna do if we can't get him out?”

Blue eyes closed briefly, before snapping open and fixing Fusco with an intense stare. “That is simply not an option, Detective. I will not consider leaving Mr. Reese there. He is far too important.” 

“How so?” It was surprising really, to see such a disapproving look on Finch's face. It wasn't actually something Fusco saw often, not from Finch. The older man was always neutral, always. 

Despite his private nature, Finch did feel indebted to the other man, he had been very helpful recently, and that was, in truth, the only reason he explained. “Mr. Reese is a good man, Detective. I have only ever had the honor of meeting one other truly good man before. Because of my actions, that man died. I will not allow the same thing to happen again.”

 

********

 

Listening to Lou tell Harold about his life. Hearing the old gambler encourage his partner to drop everything and go to Grace, caused a tightness in John's chest, a slow feeling of jealousy burn through his mind. Not because Harold had that chance, that slim opportunity to actually be with her, but because if he ever did then things would change, and John wouldn't have his partner anymore, not like he did now. 

****

Silence. It honestly took everything that Finch had not to just stand up and leave. Despite himself, his eyes closed briefly, before he shook his head. When he could finally trust his own voice, he spoke softly. “I am afraid that is not possible.” Quickly, one hand rose, halting the protest the gambler was about to make. “Not because it would cause her danger, however. It is no longer possible because I cannot even begin to fathom a life with her anymore. Yes, at one time she was the greatest thing in my life and I will always look back on that time fondly. But I...” Pale eyes closed again, and the fingers on Finch's left hand curled. 

Across the table, Lou watched as Finch took a deep breath, not realizing how important the man's next words were. 

“I have tied myself, in every way possible, to someone else. Someone, that, despite all my efforts, has become more important than my next breath. If I were to loose this, then... Then, I would no longer have any reason to continue to exist.” A long breath was released, and Finch again raised his eyes to meet Lou's directly. “Do you understand? Do you see why I cannot go back to what I was?” 

****

In the end, it was the last one, that finally spurred John into action. He had been sitting on these thoughts for a while now, and it was frustrating to not know what to do about it. He couldn't just wander into the Library and tell Harold that he knew. His partner tended to have the exact same reaction to pressure that Reese did. He clammed up, or in extreme cases, only pretended to go along, all the while looking for a way to turn the tables. 

Now however, he knew that Harold, that shy and unassuming man, the one who had bravely stood up to assassins and bombs, even John's own apathy, and defeated them all, felt exactly the same. That this thing they had was more than a partnership, more than friendship, that it was nothing less than the melding of two souls. There was nothing on this Earth that was going to stop John from taking advantage of this opportunity.


	2. Actions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since everyone was so supportive and so very kind, I kept going. I'm still a bit nervous, but I'm actually fairly happy with the result. 
> 
> I've never actually written anything like this before.

By the time Harold made it back to the Library, his mouth was pressed into a tight line, and his limping step a bit slower than usual. He didn't really like admitting anything, simply because once he did it was almost impossible to stop constantly thinking about it. He ended up spending the entire walk back mulling over what he told Lou. It had been truthful, even if it was a truth best left unsaid. Harold tried not to want things, especially things that he didn't think he deserved, but once he said those words, it was obvious that he was in far over his head.

The silence that wrapped around him as he hung up his coat was welcome. He always felt a little unhinged after a number was finished, a slight worry that something had been forgotten, floating in the back of his mind. This time though, it wasn't exactly a worry more of a quiet appreciation. Sitting at that table, watching John calmly stare at that pistol, Leon openly begging for John to do something and be promptly ignored, having that gun pointed at him, the chance that a bullet would end one of them rising with every click, should have bothered him far more than it did. It wasn't satisfaction in knowing that Lou had slipped the bullet, that had been a happy accident. No, it was the knowledge that the minute that gun had been pointed at him, and only him, that had been when John moved. Harold didn't think there was anything in his tone that had tipped John off, it had simply been his partner's instinct to protect him that had John stunning the entire room, granted, Harold could have done without John shooting the man while he was that close to him.

Taking a moment to look around the empty room, Harold wondered exactly where his partner was. When he had left to meet with Lou, John had been here, sorting through his arsenal that, according to Harold, could easily take out a tank. When he had mentioned that, John had simply smirked slightly. Given the number of guns that John had hidden away in various places, there was no way that he had finished already. Assuming that his partner had simply left for some coffee, Harold shifted into his chair, and then jumped when a low raspy voice came from hall.

 

****

 

John had slipped just out of sight when Harold rounded the corner, watching his partner closely, like he would any mark. Because this was a mission now, and John always took those very seriously. So every tiny detail was carefully cataloged. From the tight expression to the unfocused look in Harold's eyes. Privately, he spared a moment to silently thank Carter for keeping Bear that day. The dog would have blown his cover in a second. “Hello, Harold.” John practically melted out of the shadows, letting a slight smirk linger on his face. It was the same smirk he used when he was harassing Fusco.

The startled expression faded quickly into a slightly exasperated one. “Mr. Reese, I thought that you had left already.” Harold settled into his chair, unable to completely suppress his soft exhale.

It took only seconds to cross to Harold's side, hovering just behind the chair. “You should know by now, I rarely do what people expect.” John was a man of action, not words, but he was also smart enough to know that something needed to be said. “Answer something for me, Harold.”

A cautious turn, eyes fixed on John's face. “That would depend on what it is that you want to know.” Wary, suspicious, a typical Harold response.

“Why is it that you haven't mentioned this person before? The one that is more important than your next breath?” John's voice dropped, becoming a bit huskier. He watched, as Harold's hand shot up, covering his right ear, eyes widening in the same instant. One hand slid across the back of Harold's chair, as John leaned slightly closer.

Harold's shoulders stiffened a bit more. Despite that, he didn't back down. John found himself on the receiving end of Harold's _I Am Not Impressed Look_ , before the shorter man turned back to the monitors.

It was a huge tell. Not to anyone else, but it had been quite a while since Harold had dismissed John that quickly. His smirk grew just a fraction before, he schooled his face again. “I'm not sure I like it... Knowing that there's someone that you value so highly.” Using the arm that was already on Harold's chair, John turned it, swinging Harold away from the computer and around to face him directly, his other hand landing on the arm of the chair effectively trapping his partner in place. “Maybe, I just don't like the fact that you didn't _tell_ me.”

It didn't really matter that Harold was doing his absolute best to glare, or that he was stubbornly staying silent. One of the things that John liked was a challenge, and Harold was _always_ a challenge. Leaning in more, John tilted his head so his breath caressed Harold's ear.

“Is there a point to this, Mr. Reese?” Harold was scowling up at him now. “Because I simply cannot see why...”

“I know what you want.” John watched as Harold froze, swallowed, then opened his mouth before John cut him off again. “Come on, Harold. I've been listening for a while.” His nose brushed at the soft skin behind Harold's ear, before pulling back. “One word... Just one, and you can have what you want. We can both get exactly what we want.” His voice was barely a whisper.

Harold's mouth pressed into a thin line, then his eyes darted down to John's mouth and back up again before looking steadily at the floor. Another swallow, then a soft. “ _John_...”

It took very little movement on John's part to fit his mouth to Harold's, silencing that quiet sound. It was a very chaste kiss, closed mouths and light pressure, until those dry, thin lips parted, sucking in a breath. John followed the movement easily, greedily, chasing Harold's taste with his tongue. The hand that rested on the arm of the chair, slid carefully, like Harold was made of precious glass, up to rest just below Harold's shoulder, gripping the fabric of Harold's suit jacket.

When John pulled back, for some much needed air, he noticed three things immediately. First, and most important, was that Harold had made a soft sound of protest. Second, Harold's hand was twisted in John's shirt, and the third, was that John didn't actually remember moving his other hand to the back of Harold's neck. Carefully, he brushed the soft hair at the back of Harold's neck, before dropping his forehead to his partner's shoulder. For a brief minute, he simply enjoyed the smell of books and dust, with a hint of metal, the warmth of _his_ partner in so many things, before lifting his head to meet Harold's eyes.

Those eyes were still slightly unfocused, and Harold's mouth moved soundlessly. “I... We..” John kissed him again, a faint smile crossing his face when he pulled back the second time.

This time when John spoke, his voice was rough, tangled with emotion. “I can think of several things I'd rather be doing than _talking_. How about you, Harold?”

“I... Well... _Yes_.” When Harold's hand tightened, tugging insistently, John willingly leaned in again, already planning the fastest way to get them both to the back room.


End file.
